Semper Amemus
by April29Roses
Summary: A mysterious Romany woman gives Merlin an amulet that shatters his heart. Unable to stop himself, our warlock searches for the enigmatic roots of the gift, hoping for something his heart can only guess. A short,sweet story in celebration of Valentine's Day.
1. Chapter 1

The trees in the orchards and byways of Camelot were beginning to bud; in a week or two, they would be clouds of blossom. From miles around, the people of Camelot had come for the early spring market. Crop prices were widely discussed and many a handshake preceded a round of ale as alliances were made, both for good and ill. Craftsmen and and merchants from all over Albion were at hand to show their wares. Goods were exchanged, and the forthcoming summer jousting was topic of debate and occasional fisticuffs, when the ale was flowing free.

The sun was sweet, warm and gentle, far from it's blazing summer zenith, and everything about the day lightened Merlin's heart. The light of the changing seasons, the colors, everything warmed him after the chill of winter, after the relentless grey of sky and mud. Amazingly, he had the afternoon off.

Guinevere and Arthur were off on a picnic. He had to admit he had rolled his eyes when Arthur first mentioned it. While a picnic scored zero in the realm of originality in Merlin's opinion, he could not deny that Gwen would be delighted and so he had enjoyed arranging the secret picnic spot he and Arthur had scouted out weeks ago. Like their clandestine picnics of long ago, when the threat of Uther was an ever present fear, this rendevous required both subtlety and deep secrecy, now that Arthur was king. Qualities upon which Merlin prided himself.

Everything was in order, each detail taken care of meticulously. Food, wine, flowers, cushions, every last girlish comfort as the king would say. There. He could hear Arthur tramping loudly up the trail, giving his pre arranged signal that Merlin was to depart. Really, did Arthur think he was deaf? He slipped away through the trees, hugging tight to the shadows. As he neared the main road, the prospect of the afternoon of freedom made him feel like the young carefree boy he appeared on first glance.

Merlin whistled boldly as he headed up into the lower town, planning on meeting Gawaine and Percival. The narrow streets were hung with flags, the different inns boasting of the jousting champions who ate and slept there the season before. Open air kitchens cooked and sold food to the travelers coming into the fair. Music spiraled in bursts from the market, and there was laughter and people talking all around him.

"Tell your fortune, sir," said a soft voice beside him.

"Don't think so," replied Merlin with a sillier than usual grin. The very thought made him want to laugh. The woman who had spoken,was a slight figure in the shadows, but Merlin felt no sense of danger from her. He caught a glimmer of something else, but shaking his head he moved on through the crowd, as he heard the phrase that had claimed his attention repeated again and again. A tinker's stand nearby gave Merlin to think that perhaps they were gypsies, or Romany, as Geoffrey had called them. They were even more despised than Druids.

He thought no more of them until he was on his way back to the castle. The sun had already set and the night was glooming fast, soon it would be full dark. Gawaine and Percival had held fast to their tavern seats, but Merlin felt compelled to check on Arthur and Guinevere. He passed the tinkers booth, where the slender woman was now holding a box of trinkets, into which some passerby's peered with interest before they either bought something or passed on.

"Something from your lady, " said the woman as he neared, looking up almost as if she recognized him.

"Don't have a lady," he said softly. For most merchants that was enough to get them to change tactics or leave him alone. But the Romany woman only smiled sweetly.

"She would be sad to hear you say so."

At that, Merlin turned, only to meet the smoky, lucent eyes of the Romany fortune teller. In her hand was a small silver amulet of some sort. It was a hollow box about an inch across in size. A delicate strawberry plant was sculpted on the subtle shimmer of the silver surface. Fruit, flower and leaf were depicted on either side. "The plant is sacred to Freya," said the woman. The warlock took a stunned breath but before he could speak, the woman spoke again.

"Do you know who Freya is?"

The woman's question filled Merlin's eyes with a sheen of tears, as she pressed the amulet into his palm.

"She is a goddess to the people of the North, " she continued, as if Merlin's silence was to be expected. "The fierce sea wolves call her the goddess of love and beauty, but she gathers the bravest warriors to her hall of honor, and she stands beside their strongest god, who sacrifices himself without end, who sees both the past and the present, and holds the darkness at bay."

He held the amulet in his hand, the words passing over him; he could almost hear Freya's laughter. Remembering with a pang, how uncertain his magic had been in those days, he turned the amulet over. On the sides of the hollow square were Latin words written in raised letters.

Semper Amemus.

His hand closed over the fragile object, his heart suddenly thundering, for nothing could explain this. "Where did you get this ," he demanded in a voice that brooked no delay.

"It is from your lady," repeated the gypsy woman calmly as she turned and walked away. Merlin remained where he stood, stunned, paralyzed, as she was swallowed by the darkness.

A/N This story is inspired by the beautiful artistry of Anne Choi, who created the silver Semper Amemus bead. Yes, it actually exists! Google her and check out her website. Unfortunately, she does not do custom beads, but her work is truly amazing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Please," said Merlin softly to the Romany man who was packing trunks into his wagon. There was an intensity in his tone that made the man look up.

"Please, I was here yesterday. A woman who was here with you, gave me this amulet yesterday. I... I need to speak to her again."

Merlin's heart sank as the man shook his head softly.

"It's very important," he pleaded touching the man's sleeve.

"I cannot say if you will see her again. I have no way to control what my mother chooses to do." The man laughed softly and went back to loading boxes carefully into the wagon.

"But she is here with you, isn't she? " Merlin paused for a second. The woman he remembered was still young, still in her twenties. He would have thought she was this man's wife or sister. He dismissed the thought. His need for Freya drove him forward, just as it had possessed him since the moment the amulet had touched his palm.

"Please," Merlin said more strongly. "I do not wish to hurt you or your mother. She gave me this and I need some answers, I mean, I have many questions."

"Good luck with that," the man replied under his breath, as he placed the final trunk into the wagon, with the pride of a man who had just completed a complex puzzle. He smiled at Merlin. His eyes were the same lucent amber that the servant remembered from the woman with whom he had spoken with the night before. There was a mysterious glint of mirth in them, but no hint of danger or of ill will, a familiar kinship. He began to hope.

"My mother is a romantic," he said, still smiling. "Be content she left it at that, young sorcerer, " the man said, leaning in to whisper his last words into Merlin's ear.

"Do not question further, I warn you."

Merlin's heart sank in hopelessness and he felt a surge of frustration at the same time. As he turned away, the warlock felt strongly that if he simply stayed close, the man's 'mother' would shortly appear. The tinker's replies made little sense to Merlin, but he took hope from the fact that the man freely acknowledged that he knew the woman and that she been there yesterday. Well, he hadn't actually said that, thought Merlin, trying to caution himself. But he hadn't denied he knew her either. He focused his thoughts back on finding the woman before the Romany caravan left.

He peered around a corner, pausing. His need to find Freya rose to choke him, In his heart he pleaded with whatever powers existed to help him find her once more. It was a a plea of desperation, it was hopelessness fueled by the love that drove him.

Then he heard the familiar question, like a refrain, and for a moment he wondered if it was truly a voice in the street or only an illusion.

"Tell your fortune, sir?"

Moving quickly, he was beside her in an instant. He reached out to touch her, but his hand slipped through hers, his hand scattering silvery motes. Her smile deepened as she looked him. Comprehension dawned in his eyes suddenly.

"Did you not guess, Merlin?"

He reached out his hand again, but this time, even though he knew she was a ghost, he encountered a solid presence. His magic sang coldly. She seemed like a ghost, but his magic tingled in a way he never before recalled. He looked at her in confusion for a moment, hardly knowing where to begin, but before the questions could pour from his lips, she touched them lightly with an out stretched fingertip. It was like the smallest bite of lightning, and Merlin somehow knew it was better not to struggle.

In the depths in the clear eyes of the ghost before him, he wondered how he would ever find the truth. And then for a thunderous, wild moment all he could think of was Freya.

Memory possessed him. Everything came pouring back to him, every detail. He had been alone so long, that some days he could not trust his memories. Could it be that her smile had really been so sweet, so completely piercing? Could anyone have actually looked into the eyes of the awkward frightened boy he had been and seen him as entirely wonderful?

And yet, there were other days, other nights, long, terrible, wonderful nights, when he could see the breathless sweetness of her eyes, feel the whispering touch of her lashes as she brushed his cheek with her lips. If he held his breath, he could feel the slight tremor of her hand in his. Freya. And just as it had in the long ago spring rain, his heart started to beat wildly,

But that was all it was. Memories. Precious as jewels, empty as the ashes of yesterday. Until this very same Romany woman who stood before him had slipped the amulet into his hand with her disconcerting words. And now, perhaps this was his last chance to communicate with Freya, to find her again into whatever realm of magic her spirit had found a haven.

"Please!"

Merlin's voice choked on the word; the spell of the gypsy woman snapped with a spark of silver. The woman continued to smile but her eyes grew sad as she looked up at the dark haired young man. She was very beautiful, beyond her eyes was an almost numinous glow.

Encouraged, he began to speak very softly. "I'm begging. I'm asking you, please. If you see my lady," he paused, "give her this." He handed her a small white leather pouch, the ties,dangling with a small clear crystal.

I cannot say, young Emrys," she said quietly, as if she was trying not to disappoint the boy who stood before her., "I have no way of knowing if I will see your lady again. There are many mysteries, many pathways, that even I cannot see."

"Then take it with you," he answered firmly, passionately, "and if you do not see her, perhaps you will think of me and remember."

"Remember what?"

"Sometimes I'm not so sure anymore," he said softly. He opened his mouth as if to speak again.

"Then I will help you," the woman said softly. And with that phrase, her eyes glowed gold, her left hand held up in a warding gesture. Merlin reeled, taking a breath, as if an in sudden shock, and the world around him spun into another reality.


	3. Chapter 3

She was in his arms. Freya. She was amazingly, completely, miraculously in his arms. Forgetting shock, forgetting logic, forgetting grief, time dropped away.

He tried to say her name but his heart would not let him.

Merlin didn't know where he was, nor did he care. He knew from the thunder in his heart that Freya was undeniably real, not a ghost, not a spirit or a memory. But Freya. Alive and wonderful and the smile in her eyes was bringing him back to himself. He kept trying to say her name but his voice wouldn't work. Her arms tightened around him and Merlin was overcome with a rush of feelings, beyond joy, beyond despair.

Merlin held her tighter and she giggled, and if there was any doubt in him that this was real and not some enchantment or hallucination, that sound drove that shadow away.

"I've never seen you speechless," said Freya, burying her head in his neck.

He gave a whoop of joy, embracing her and twirling her as his joy erupted in an explosion of magic, a golden rain that hung in the air like a falling drift of petals in some impossible spring. And then he wept, helplessly and without shame, because he was with Freya again.

Insane as this moment was, he could not doubt what he felt. Love consumed him into ash. It drove him into darkness and back into the light until his heart opened. Love cleaved him like Excalibur itself, it revived him as if the Cup of Life had been held to his lips. It healed the pain that had become so familiar, that only now, as he stepped from it's shadow, did he realize the extent of his wounding.

With his head reeling, Merlin kissed her over and over, until she laughed again, twisting at last, to look into his eyes. Her hands were gentle as she cradled his face, turning him mercilessly towards her shining gaze.

"Let me look at you, Merlin. It's been so long." He hardly knew what to think as she looked into his eyes, praying for a mercy he never hoped he would need.

"You've been so brave," she whispered at last. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away, kissing him once more .

"How..."

"I didn't expect this. I sent a message to you, a strawberry. I finally learned to enchant it into a rose, and I never thought it would reach you. But here you are."

Merlin's heart blazed.

"She gave me a silver amulet, with a strawberry ..."

"I don't understand either, Merlin. Maybe we shouldn't ask. I don't really know what happened, but I never hoped..." Her eyes filled with tears. "It's only for a moment," said Freya softly. But the understanding in Merlin's eyes told her, that he had already guessed as much.

"None of that matters, Merlin. All we need is one moment."

Merlin laughed, though his heart was beginning to bleed.

"That's all we have."

"That's all we need. This moment, Merlin. Because no matter what happens from now on, this moment happened. And nothing can change that." Freya kissed him once more, sweetly, there was a reverence in her pause.

"All the times, Merlin. All the times we never had. The days and nights, all the smiles and the tears, every moment in your arms, the arguments and squabbles, the happy endless march of ordinary days..."

"The thousand nights when I could have reached out to touch you if I awoke., chimed Merlin, half-entranced, his blue eyes swimming

"The mountains and the lake..."

" Memories of the times we never had, of everything that might have been... an infinity of love, Merlin."

He looked down into her eyes, and in their depths was a shadow, a shadow as deep as the darkness that stalked his own destiny. And beyond that was the sheer wonder of this moment. Why had this miracle happened at all? From that first mad moment in the rain, why had it even happened at all? Unlikely as life, doomed and wonderful, they had found each other. The whole mad crazy chain shook him loose from every certainty.

For all the mystery, there was only one answer as he looked into the truthfulness of Freya's eyes, praying for just one moment more. One moment more. Love filled him, it filled him beyond the edges of his being, down to the very root of who he was, and who he might become. Alone. Together. Always.

"I love you," they said.


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin awoke shivering. He was shivering in tremors that ebbed and flowed like the tide, and shook him down to the very marrow of his magic. He had been with Freya. He hardly knew where he was, but he could hear muffled voices. Then he began to understand. Blankets. Fire. Voices.

But he had been with Freya. His heart was still singing.

"There", said an unfamiliar voice. "Give him some of this to drink. It will help quickly." Merlin realized someone was holding his head up and a warm liquid was pouring into his mouth. It was sweet and bitter at the same time and it swept through his body like a warming wind, a sensation very close to pain. It made him feel immaterial, as if he might be swept away at any moment. His shivering eased a bit, aching along his bones and he tried, but couldn't open his eyes. He was still dazed, still not sure of what was happening. He had been with Freya.

"Wake up there, mate" said a voice he knew very well, as he felt himself jostled. "Merlin can you hear me?"

Another voice. "Give him some more, Gawaine. He's coming round."

"Percival, we were damn lucky."

"Wasn't luck," said the unfamiliar voice

A warm hand touched his face, and he tried to focus. As the hand left his face he felt a sting of magic. A bite. His eyes snapped open suddenly, fearful, almost panicked. The amber eyes of the Romany tinker smiled down into his own. Gawaine was peering down at him, panic just fading from his eyes and Percival was smiling broadly.

Unable to cope, he closed his eyes, shock and wonder still tearing at him. He felt the inundation of unshed tears in his heart, but everything else within him sang. It sang like like the glowing trail of a comet through the hopeless dark of the heavens and over him it left a blessing. Freya.

Another swallow. More blankets. Between the fierce shivering of his body and the sweet coursing wind that pierced him through, he could no longer bear the pain of his awakening. It gouted from his heart as if a knife had been withdrawn from his chest, and he felt the Romany man reach down, and place his hand on the fountaining agony, just as Merlin began to thrash uncontrollably. He could hear his friends. Calling his name. Telling him to hang on. As if he had a choice. He could feel the man's warm hand like a comforting anchor, and he held on until the hurricane passed. The warmth held him true. He was through it finally. Still true, still holding on. More confused than ever, he opened his eyes again.

"Better now, Merlin," said Gawaine, with undeniable relief in his voice. He realized the knight was holding him, Percival chaffing his arm, as if to revive him. The Romany man helped him sit up, and covered him with more blankets as the shivering eased considerably. He took another swallow of the warm liquid. He leaned against the Gawaine as he came back to himself slowly.

"What happened?" The man's voice was gentle.

"I found your mother..." said Merlin, his eyes unable to meet those of the tinker. He could find no words for what had happened.

"She was kind." There were so many other things he wanted to say to this man, so many questions.

The man shook his head as if that seemed incredible, but his eyes were twinkling the whole time. "As I said, young Merlin. My mother is a romantic. Best we leave it at that!"

The tinker placed the amulet in his hand. His magic shot coldly through him at the contact, but a warmth blossomed from the very spot as well. Another bite of magic. The thought made him wary., but he was beginning to understand. It was still hard to think; he was so cold.

"How did you find me, said Merlin at last, looking at his friends whose relief was so very clear. The Romany man had drifted back to his wagon, looking back every little while, but clearly readying himself to leave on his journey.

"We heard a commotion on our way back from the tavern..." began Gawaine. Percival smiled as he shrugged and looked up a the sun; it was high in the sky. It had been a while then, thought Merlin, with a wry interior grin. "We heard an outcry, there was a dead man in the street, so being Knights of Camelot and all..."

"The short version Gawaine," reminded Percival.

"You scared us half to death. Looked like the Doracha had gotten you again. If it hadn't been for our friend here...

Gawaine turned to thank the tinker who was buckling on a quiver and longbow, as he readied his wagon to head out. He did not drive the team, but guided the pair of horses harnessed to the wagon by the bridle, turning them away from Merlin and his friends. He looked back at them with a grin. He brushed aside their thanks and riveted Merlin one last time, with a merry look.

"You are blessed my friend," he said softly, as if only Merlin could hear him and perhaps that was truly the case. Merlin was never sure afterwards.

"Good luck to you!' cried the tinker with a final wave to the astonished group.

"Can't be too careful around these parts of Camelot," he said with a smile as he patted the baldric that held his quiver in place. "It's a dangerous place, in more ways than one."

Merlin found he could only sigh as the tinker and the Romany wagon trundled out of sight. The amulet was warm in his palm. He needed no more answers. and now he was exhausted. There would be plenty of time to parse out the meaning of all that had happened; ample time for wonderment and doubt. He had been with Freya. The glory of it silenced his tears, the amulet filled him with wonder.

"Semper Amemus," Merlin whispered, reaching out to touch that ephemeral moment that now stood, inviolate, endless, fair as a star, burning in the heart of his magic.

"And over our heads will float the Blue Bird, singing of beautiful and impossible things, of things that are lovely and never happen, of things that are not, but should be. Oscar Wilde

Happy Valentine's Day


End file.
